Primitive Human Sleep Cycles
by Skybluebirdy
Summary: Time Lords do not need naps. Clearly. And even if the Doctor did, he's pretty sure he's got this part-human thing figured out. Probably. Anyway, he's definitely not afraid of sleeping. Certainly not of any silly dreams. And he absolutely, positively doesn't have a problem being on his own. He just doesn't want to be left with Jackie while Rose is off on her work trip, that's all...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing, and all the characters you recognize belong to the BBC.**

A/N: Bit of a sequel piece to Heart of Stone, but definitely not necessary to read that for this. Just another Pete's World Archive piece I couldn't get out of my head. Happy reading. =)

* * *

"I'll only be gone for a few days, Doctor." Rose said as she grabbed her keys off the kitchen counter.

The Doctor had his hands in his pockets, leaning against the fridge unhappily as he watched her rush to slip on shoes and zip up her Torchwood jacket. "Are you sure you can't take your mother with you?" he asked with the barest hint of hope.

She laughed as she caught his expression. "You'll spend half the day out of the house at Torchwood with my dad anyway. You'll barely even see her. Besides, it's her house too, and seeing as how you're crashed on her livingroom couch each night I reckon you owe her."

He looked mortified. "Me? Owe your mother? Haven't I paid enough?"

"You're such a drama queen. Honestly, you'll be fine." she said, rolling her eyes, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she slewed about the kitchen. "Now where did I put my keycard?"

The Doctor held up the item in question and cleared his throat. She reached up and snatched the card from him, leaning in for a hug as she tucked it into her jacket pocket. His gloomy expression melted as he slipped his arms around her and smiled softly into her hair.

"Promise me you'll try and get along with her?" Rose asked, looking up at him.

He gave a long, dramatic sigh, before answering, "I'll try, but if she murders me while you're gone it'll be on your conscience."

"Fair enough." she smiled, tightening her arms for a second before pulling back and dashing off to the doorway. "I'll see you in a few days." she called from the entryway just before shutting the door behind her.

The Doctor stared at the back of the closed door. He used to be the one running out of houses, slamming doors. Now he was sitting in the Tylers' kitchen, the most terrifying threat he faced was that of one Mrs. Jackie Tyler, as he watched Rose go off to deal with overseeing the setup of Torchwood's secondary branch in Wales. It could have been much, much worse. Still, he didn't fancy spending four days around Jackie without Rose to intercede for him.

"Doctor, we need to be going as well." Pete said as he entered the kitchen, going to pour himself a mug of coffee before hurrying out to the car, not even waiting for a response. Sighing, the Doctor walked to the door, opened it, stepped outside, then quietly closed it behind him.

* * *

The Doctor flopped down on the couch, groaning as he kicked off his shoes. Things had not gone well at Torchwood. A self-replicating mining flea-droid had somehow activated in the lab, and he had spent three hours crawling through the narrow confines of the air vents searching for its central distribution node. This was _after_ the R&D department had _accidentally_ overloaded their new electrical micro field processors and nearly set off a trion-based fusion bomb that would've made the atomic bomb look like a soda-pop detonator. On top of all that, one of the new interns had set off the lockdown protocol by mistake. Ordinarily, this would've been fine, but with the R&D overload earlier, the comm systems had been knocked out, and Pete couldn't issue the shutdown code. Everyone had been trapped inside the building for hours until the Doctor and a few of the technicians had finally figured out how to trip the system into resetting. All in all, it had been an extraordinarily exhausting day.

It was fairly early for bed, but as he stretched out on the couch he found he didn't really care. So, he made himself comfortable, closed his eyes, and waited…

And waited...

And waited…

The minutes ticked by, but still he waited. Thirty minutes. Forty-five. Sixty. Ninety. He fidgeted, adjusting his position for the hundredth time. Finally, he opened his eyes. Maybe going to bed early wasn't such a good idea after all. He reached over to the coffee table and grabbed the TV remote, flicking through channels before finally settling on one playing _Lady and the Tramp_.

Hours passed. Pete turned in at the normal bedtime. Jackie stayed up to drink another cup of tea, but ended up talking on the phone until close to midnight. Eventually though, even Jackie went to bed. As the clock in the hall chimed three, the Doctor still couldn't seem to get to sleep. Luckily, there always seemed to be some movie or show on to distract him. Though at five in the morning even a documentary about dolphins seemed fascinating. When Jackie shuffled past the living room on her way to the kitchen at seven the next morning, he was still wide-eyed and watching telly.

"What d'ya want to be watching a gardening show for?" she asked, peering at him curiously.

"Never too early to be thinking about camellias." he said vaguely, eyes glued to the person on the telly arranging a bed of roses and clover. Jackie gave up and went to make herself a cup of tea, muttering something about his strange habits and it being too early for this nonsense.

He mostly tuned her out as she continued talking about Jan next door or something. He wasn't really sure he could've pieced together what she was talking about even if he had been properly paying attention. Instead, he watched a variety of advertisements on cooking supplies, and learned the differences between full-shade to full-sun flower varieties and where best to plant them. The longer the Doctor sat in front of the television, the more his eyelids started to droop.

A hand on his shoulder made him sit bolt upright, his momentary tiredness forgotten. His eyes snapped open to find Jackie hovering over him. To his relief, she didn't appear to be irritated or angry with him at this particular moment. Once that sentiment fully sunk in, he noticed that she was looking at him with a concerned expression. She continued to stare at him, as if she were expecting a response to something.

"Sorry, what?" he asked, feeling slightly off-balance and flustered as he distractedly rubbed the lingering feeling of sleep from his eyes.

"I asked if you got enough sleep, love. You look like you need to go lie down for a bit." she explained gently, her tone soft, peering at him uncertainly.

"What? Oh, no, sorry, I'm fine. Really, fine, Jackie. I slept for a full eight hours two nights ago. I don't need to sleep again until tomorrow night at the earliest." It wasn't strictly true. With his new part-human biology, he really should be sleeping every other day or two for several hours, but Jackie didn't really need to know a thing like that. As it was, he was surprised at how almost motherly she was being.

Even as he thought this, her tone took on a sharper, more threatening, Jackie-ish edge to it that the Doctor recognized instantly as trouble. "Oh, don't be daft! Even almighty Time Whatsits have to sleep sometimes. Now go on, shoo. Go and lie down for a bit."

Deciding not to press his luck, he nodded. As Jackie returned to the kitchen, the Doctor shut off the TV and settled down as comfortably as he could on the couch. For the second time that day, he closed his eyes, and tried to fall asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Half past six o'clock the next morning found Jackie stumbling groggily into the kitchen to a storm of noise and commotion. The kettle whistled shrilly over the stove. Eggs, beaten to within an inch of their life, sat sizzling in a skillet beside the shrieking kettle. Three separate alarms were blasting like nuclear launch warnings from various regions of the small kitchen, from countertops to the trash can. Flour drifted through the air, illuminated in the beams of sunlight from the side window, and whipped about in the flurry of activity. The toaster was spewing multicolored smoke. Bacon sizzled in a pan over the stove, popping in time with the egg alarms. And there, in the midst of it all, presiding over the chaos like an attention-deficient whirlwind, was the Doctor.

"What on earth are you doing?" Jackie demanded, watching as he dashed about, grating cheese over the eggs, plating the surprisingly normal toast, and wrapping the bacon up to drain on a platter.

"Making breakfast. Thought that was fairly obvious." He somehow managed to pour and pass her a cup of tea while balancing the three separate plates stacked with their respective dishes with one in either arm and the final one wobbling precariously atop his head. "There we are." he beamed, moving past her to place everything on the table, which even had napkins, and utensils, and cups, and things all already set out.

She eyed him suspiciously. He'd hardly stayed down for half an hour yesterday when she told him to sleep, and though he'd acted energetic as always, there had been dark circles under his eyes. Looking at him now, they were even more pronounced, and his smile seemed tighter than usual. "Did you sleep at all last night?" she demanded, noting the tiny lines of fatigue across his face, the mask slipping slightly before he could catch himself.

" _Well_ …" he said awkwardly, scratching at the back of his head. At the irritable expression on Jackie's face, her mouth opening to give him a piece of her mind, however, he quickly added, "I just got bored. Sitting around for hours each night is a waste of time. So I upgraded your toaster. Look, see," he pleaded, quickly running to grab the appliance and show it to her, "It's got four new settings now. You'll never get tired of toast again." He held out the toaster like a shield, hopefully distracting her enough with his offering to get out of the potentially painful situation unscathed.

"What, so, you made breakfast?"

"Yes?" he said, the statement sounding more like a question as he still cringed a bit before the onslaught of an irritable Jackie Tyler, her hair frazzled and looking distinctly groggy.

"Ooh, that's lovely." she said, taking a sip of the tea she was still holding. There was a pause as she stared at him again. He returned the stare unblinkingly, and after a moment she sat down heavily in the nearest chair and reached over to grab a slice of hot buttered toast off the platter. "Couldn't fetch the jam, could you, then?"

Relieved to have somehow, miraculously, escaped the perilous situation, the Doctor handed her the marmalade and jam, and hastily retreated from the kitchen, grabbing a banana and a quick lick of marmalade on his way out of the room before Jackie could reprimand him.

He didn't go far. How could he? It wasn't like there were a lot of places to go. He put as much distance between him and Jackie as he could though. Pete had added a garage onto the side of the house when he'd constructed it, strictly for practicality's sake, he'd argued. He had also taken the liberty of turning it into a mini workshop of sorts, and the Doctor found himself wandering through there now.

He checked the growth field around the branching coral of TARDIS he'd plopped into a gardening pot and tucked into the coolest, darkest corner of the garage, and felt the soil. A little dry. He took out a small dropper from the nearby water bucket and moistened the plant. Checking the instrumentation again, he frowned and leaned forward, giving the coral a quick lick. Sugar stores were a bit low, and metabolism was slower than usual as well. He added another few drops of a colorless solution to the soil directly around the plant and adjusted the growth field slightly to compensate. Satisfied with his handiwork, he stepped back, leaning heavily against the workbench beside him.

His head felt a bit fuzzy, and staying up for hours and days at a stretch _probably_ wasn't healthy, even if he was mostly still Time Lord. Maybe he should go try and lie down for a bit until Pete was ready to leave...

The Doctor returned to the house, quickly replacing his mask of energy for anyone who might see him. Entering the living room, he found Jackie standing just outside the kitchen, chatting on the phone with someone. Not wanting to get dragged into one of her endless and rather pointless phone calls, he quickly made a beeline to the couch and flipped on the TV, switching through channels to look busy until she was finished.

"All right, sweetheart, just be careful. Call back soon. Love you." Jackie put down the phone and looked up, catching the Doctor inadvertently staring back at her.

"Who was that?" he asked, the telly buzzing with static in the background, now completely forgotten. He wasn't entirely sure what drove his curiosity. Maybe the tone of her voice, just a little sad, and free of the normal busybody air she displayed when gossiping with the neighbors. Or maybe it was the little furrow of worry in her brow, the smile tinged with a hint of loneliness. Whatever it was, and knowing Jackie it was probably nothing even remotely interesting or important, it was a harmless enough question, he reasoned.

"Rose. She's just called to say things have been a bit bumpy at work, and she's staying another three days." Jackie explained, the little sweet-sad smile still lingering.

His face didn't change expressions, but he could feel his singular heart sink at the prospect of another three days like the past few ones. He tried to blame Jackie for the unease, but, truthfully, though he'd fervently deny it, she hadn't been all that bad. She hadn't slapped him, _yet_ , and there had been relatively little yelling involved. Tame was not a word he would've used to describe her, but it was still better than how she used to react to him. Still… three days. It wouldn't be so bad if he could sleep, and it hadn't been for lack of trying. Somehow, though he needed to rest, he couldn't stop his mind from wandering when he was supposed to be sleeping.

Refocusing upon the conversation, he blurted, "Is everything all right? Is Rose okay?" The words didn't even seem to register in his brain before his mouth was already running on automatic. After his brain caught up, he abruptly shut his mouth, not quite sure what his tongue was doing. Of _course_ Rose was all right. Jackie wouldn't be so calm if she weren't.

"She's fine. Just runnin' a bit late is all." Jackie eyed him with that peculiar, searching gaze, and though he'd thought his expression hadn't changed, she seemed to see something there. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"I'm always alright." he answered almost automatically, not at all liking the way she was staring at him. In the end, he was the one to break eye contact first, the staring having become almost intolerable. He wasn't easily intimidated, and, no, Jackie Tyler had _not_ intimidated him, but he really didn't want to discuss this topic, and he knew that blasted Tyler stubbornness wouldn't let her back down first. So...

"Well, I'll do the washing up. You go have a nice cuppa and see if you can sleep a bit."

When he began to protest, Jackie silenced him with another sharp look. "There's still an hour and a half left before you need to leave. You just go and sleep until then."

He did as he was told, deciding not to risk telling her that he didn't want any tea. He dutifully fixed himself a cup, drank most of it, then went to lie down for a nap. Or, he tried to. He really did. But all the trying made no difference in the world. He listened as Jackie mopped up the kitchen, counting the seconds as they slipped by him, all the while seeking sleep.

When she finished cleaning up after breakfast, Jackie came to check on him. His eyes were closed and he kept his breathing slow and steady, which still did nothing to help him rest, but did wonders for making him look the part.

"Are you asleep yet?" she whispered, her voice low. He didn't answer. He heard her shuffle around, and felt an unexpected something settle over his feet and legs. Jackie pulled the blanket up so it came up to his chin, then gently tucked him in. "Sleep well, love." she said in an even lower voice, the Doctor straining to hear, as she finished her fussing and quietly left. And, as he lay cocooned in the warm blanket in the dimness of early morning, he really wished he could.


	3. Chapter 3

_He stands alone in the silence. The white walls cannot reflect the sound of the timelines collapsing around him, the possible futures slipping away like sand from a broken hourglass. The air is cold, heavy with the touch of the void. There is nothing, just emptiness. The bare white walls stretch out in their solitude as he moves mechanically towards them. The surface is cool and smooth beneath his fingers, the sensation sending vague shocks of feeling through his otherwise senseless system. There is no crack, no remnant of the rift remaining. It sealed completely, as it should. Even so, he can almost see her, her echo, an afterimage lingering upon the walls. If he could just—but no. As the futures fracture around him, he can only lean against the wall and listen for an echo he will never hear, watching the ghost that is all that is left of her. And as he looks, even the afterimage begins to fade._

The Doctor woke up, though he didn't open his eyes. He didn't sit bolt upright. Didn't feel the overwhelming fear quickly fading to relief as it always did at the end of a nightmare. Didn't roll out of bed and try to distract himself. He just lay there, his chest rising and falling so slowly that at a glance one might think that it had actually stopped. It ached dully with each heartbeat, though he knew from experience that it was a temporary thing. He forced his eyes open, in spite of the malaise that weighed upon him, and was, for a moment, surprised to find he was on the Tyler's couch. Blinking, he scrubbed his face with his hands and took a moment to regain his bearings. Though he'd been here for several weeks, there was still something disconcerting when he first woke up about not being in the TARDIS. Between that and the constant nightmares, was it any wonder that he didn't care for sleeping? Beyond it being a pointless waste of time, that is. If it wasn't those pitiless white walls and Canary Wharf, then it was that blasted beach, or the Time War. It seemed his mind was determined to drive him mad from repetition as well as from the memories. On that cheery note, he sat up and craned his neck to read the clock in the kitchen. It was 7:35, which meant, he realized as he rechecked the clock to make sure he hadn't misread it, that he'd slept for a grand total of twenty minutes. Wonderful. As quietly as he could, he got up, went to the kitchen, and grabbed the briefing reports from the counter where Pete had left them yesterday. Settling back down on the couch, and positioning himself so he could resume the sleeping facade if Jackie came back, the Doctor pulled out the first report and started reading. It was going to be a _very_ long day.

* * *

Jackie entered the kitchen to find a new brand of chaos. The Doctor was holding what at first glance appeared to be a normal screwdriver, but upon closer inspection seemed to be some sort of swiss army knife variant, and was using it to completely disassemble her coffee machine. She sighed, which prompted immediate protestations of innocence from the moderately startled Time Lord.

"—And it was like that when I got here. So of course I decided to fix it—"

She put her hands on her hips and gave him a look, which he of course ignored and talked over.

"—cold in the mornings. _Well_ , I couldn't just leave it like that, could I?"

More staring. More babbling from the Doctor.

"—And of _course_ it wasn't compatible, but I think I fixed that. No need to worry, I'll just put it back together and it'll be good as new. Better, even."

He finally stopped talking, noticing perhaps that his voice was the only one filling the otherwise empty silence.

"D'you think you could not take apart my kitchen for a bit?" Jackie asked, more resigned than anything else.

"Sorry." he said sheepishly, and he stopped fiddling with the coffee pot.

He looked awful. His eyes were bloodshot, the circles underneath them were darker than ever, he had an almost listless touch to his gaze, as if he was having a hard time focusing, and he was rather pale. Well, paler than usual for the pasty stickman, she thought. It was the sort of look Rose had had for the first month after they had arrived here. She hadn't slept well either. Not that Jackie would ever tell him that. Not that he'd ever really listened to her properly anyway, and probably wouldn't for that either. No, she just waved vaguely at him to continue… whatever it was he was doing, and went back out into the livingroom to make a phone call. Pulling out her phone and punching in the familiar numbers, Jackie waited until the line connected as her feet carried her out of the kitchen to stand worriedly in the living room, peering back at the Doctor every once in a while.

Finally, the line picked up. "Rose, we need to talk…"

* * *

The Doctor had just replaced the last screw in the newly reassembled coffee machine and was placing the pot back on the counter where it belonged when Jackie finally came back into the kitchen. She held out the phone to him.

"Who is it?"

"Well answer it and find out." she shot back, going to set the kettle and leaving him to it. Curious, he raised the phone and asked, "Hello?"

"Hullo." the familiar voice on the other end called back cheerily.

The effect of that simple word was slight, but unmistakable.

"Rose?"

"Last time I checked, yeah." she observed, and he could almost hear the smile behind it. It faded a second later as she pressed on, "You feeling all right, Doctor? Mum says you haven't been sleeping."

"Yeah, well, been busy! Plenty left to do at Torchwood. Had to get a gremlin out of the break room yesterday. I've also been experimenting with a new bubbleberry panna cotta. Can't quite get the syrup right. Probably because I had to use blackberries, but when life doesn't give you lemons you might as well make the best of it and make limeade instead."

There was a brief lull on the other end and he could tell she wasn't buying it. Surprisingly, however, she didn't pursue the subject. "How've you been getting along with my mum?" she asked instead.

"I haven't died yet."

"She told me you destroyed the toaster."

"I _improved_ the toaster."

"And the coffee pot."

"Also improved."

"Mhm." she said noncommittally. "She also told me it's been three days and you haven't so much as taken a proper nap."

"Rose—" he protested.

She pressed on, "Now I know you don't like lying about, and you don't need as much sleep as we weary mortals do, but you can't go three days without sleeping. And before you argue, go take a look in a mirror, because mum says you look like a zombie."

He didn't say anything. What was he supposed to say? _Oh, sorry, Rose, can't do that, I seem to have a sudden bout of insomnia?_ But he couldn't just ignore her either, so he opted for the safest path available to him. "I'll try." he said, putting more belief than he really felt into the short words.

"You better." she said, just a little pushily, but he could hear the concern behind the words. "Could you put my mum back on the phone?"

Jackie was already coming back with her cuppa, so he handed the phone back to her. They talked for another minute or two before they eventually hung up. He'd assumed that was all, but when Jackie sat down across the table from him, passed him a mug of tea, and stared at him meaningfully he realized his mistake.

"What've I done this time?" he sighed, resigned to yet another lecture or scolding.

Ignoring his question, Jackie leaned back, sipped at her own tea, and considered him for a few moments. When at length she finally broke the silence, it was not what he expected her to say.

"Rose was twelve before her first sleepover."

"I'm sorry?"

Again, she ignored him, continuing her story almost as if he weren't there. "I'd never been apart from her before, and it terrified me. 'Course she was all right, and I picked her up the next morning, but that's not the point. As she got older she used to stay out more and more, off with her mates and things, but she was never gone for more than a day. Not until she met you. I'd never been away from my daughter for more than a day, and then she was just gone. It was just her and me when she was growing up. Just the two of us. Can you imagine what I went through that year she was missing?"

He listened mutely, feeling another stab of guilt at the memory. It certainly wasn't the first occasion he'd gotten his times mixed up, but he didn't usually mess up quite so badly. He'd caused Rose to miss out on an entire year of life with her mum, and Jackie and Mickey had been worried sick.

"Then after you brought her back I barely got two days with her before you two were off again. And you didn't visit nearly often enough. Especially the older you with the ears and all. Oh, I wanted to slap you sometimes. But you did the right thing and you brought her back in the end. You always brought her back. When she came back with the new you, all floppy haired and absolutely barmy, that Christmas when you kept passing out and with that awful fever and all, it was the first time I really saw any of the stuff she was always going on about. It wasn't just those green Slibeam things anymore, it was the entire world, millions of people with no way to protect themselves. But you stopped them, you and my Rose stopped them." there was a touch of pride in her voice now.

"Rose did most of the work. I was a bit useless." he said, thinking back to that Christmas and once again experiencing a quick jab of guilt. Aside from waking up briefly to take down a killer Christmas tree, he'd been asleep through most of the conflict. In fact, if it hadn't been for Jackie's tea he might have missed the entire encounter all together.

"Won a swordfight in your jammies though, that's something. 'Course after you woke up I knew she'd leave again, but that didn't matter as much anymore. She was happy. Thank goodness she had laundry or I might never have seen her again." she remarked, her tone fond and prickly in equal measures. Luckily, she didn't really seem too upset and she continued in a quieter, more thoughtful tone of voice, "It was hard, being the one left behind. Mickey felt it too. When you took him with you I figured he'd be back in a couple of weeks. Never been one for aeroplanes or flying things, Mickey. Then… well, on my own again. It was never quite the same without him. And every day I'd wait, hoping to hear that noise." She paused to make a sound just vaguely reminiscent of the TARDIS engines and continued, "First a couple weeks went by without a visit, then months, until I'd started to wonder if you weren't coming back at all. But you did… eventually." she paused again, eyes staring off into the distance. "Rose wasn't really the same after, well, all of this." Jackie gestured all around them. "She barely ate. Barely slept. Hardly ever talked. But Norway was the worst of it. After we got back though she threw herself into Torchwood. Started putting herself back together, if only so she could do something. When they started the Dimension Cannon project she was the first in line to join. There wasn't much I could do to help, just be there for her. Fix her a cuppa. Talk about whatever she wanted. Listen." She sipped at her tea, and the Doctor found himself doing the same.

"As the project got on they started doing test runs. More and more of them as time went on. Rose started taking overnight shifts to do them. Then day long trips. Then a few nights over the course of the week. It was just like the old days. Except you weren't there to bring her back. I waited every night until she'd come home. I couldn't bear to think what might be happening to her out there. Couldn't bear to be separated from her again. I couldn't sleep until I knew she was safe, tucked up in her bed where she always used to be. 'Course this went on for months. D'you know what I finally understood after all that? I couldn't protect her from everything. And if there's one thing all her extra hours at Torchwood taught me it's that she's stronger than I ever thought she was. Sometimes, no matter how hard it is and no matter how much you love her, you have to believe in her and just let her go."

"And how do you do that?" he asked quietly.

She gave him a sad smile. "You don't, sweetheart. The most you can do is try and sleep, keep going, and be there for her when she gets back."


	4. Chapter 4

In the end, the Doctor did sleep, but not for very long. Thirty or forty minutes of relatively dreamless sleep was all he was destined to get that night. Still, he was grateful for them. And if they were ended by another half-nightmare, half-memory of the Daleks, who was keeping count?

The Doctor wasn't exactly bursting with energy, but faced with the prospects of another sleepless eight hours and an irate Jackie if he so much as laid a finger on the tea kettle or anything else in the kitchen for that matter, he decided enough was enough. Pulling on his shoes, he scribbled a quick note on a napkin, leaving it on a counter in the kitchen where he knew Pete would find it, and headed out the door. A bus ride and one taxi cab fare later saw the Doctor pacing the halls of Torchwood, moving mechanically past the check-in desk to the labs. If he couldn't sleep, and he couldn't tinker with anything at the Tylers' house, he might as well get some work done. Just in time, it seemed, too, because there was a shimmering orb of luminescent stars hovering in the air above one of the cubicles that looked suspiciously like a focal nexus point, the sort that ethereal beings might use for transport between the physical universe and the temporal one. Potentially hungry and/or homeless ethereal beings who might decide Earth was a great place to invade. That familiar rush of excitement flushed some of the weariness from his system, and his nerves tingled with anticipation. A few employees had seemed to notice the floating sphere of winking sparks and were starting to react. Not wasting any time, the Doctor joined them.

When Pete arrived later there was a conspicuous lack of pencils at any of the desks. Questioning on the subject revealed very little, and those that knew about it seemed extremely exhausted, promising to type up a report the next morning after they'd had some sleep and more coffee. Upon then searching for the Doctor, he eventually found him in the break room with a stack of empty espresso cups on the table beside him. The local barista had apparently decided to cut the Doctor off, a measure not usually required in the break room since they only served tea and coffee, but given that the man had downed eight cups in 45 minutes he could see the wisdom in it. He decided not to question him about the espresso and simply thanked the barista, and marched him out and into the meeting room where they sat until the daily status meeting officially started. Aside from a distinct and rather noticeable twitch in his eye, and how he kept surreptitiously checking his pulse every ten or fifteen minutes, the Doctor seemed to have a fairly good grasp on the coffee and even managed to make marginally meaningful contributions to the meeting until Pete noticed that the man, elbows propping up his head, didn't even have his eyes open. He was slumped against the table, eye still twitching, but clearly completely out of it. He cleared his throat, trying to recapture the Doctor's attention, but he didn't budge. Rolling his eyes, Pete sighed.

"Doctor, if you're going to take a nap why don't you sleep it off somewhere else?"

"Hmm?" the Doctor mumbled, still not opening his eyes. "I'm not napping. There just wasn't much for me to look at."

"You got bored?" Pete said, almost, but not quite, disbelieving. It wasn't a question. It was an accusation. "Doctor, we don't have time to be mucking about. If you're not interested, why don't you go find something else to do?"

"Don't think he'll have to." one of the other meeting members interrupted, staring at a familiar orb of stars forming above the table.

The Doctor's eyes snapped open, and he dragged his head up to stare at the floating sphere of twinkling lights. "Everyone get down." he warned, as the gateway started to glow an ominous orange. They all followed his suggestion, ducking under the table faster than the average person would've thought possible. There was no joking around when a potentially hostile alien force decided to plop into the middle of a meeting. Everyone else was already under the table or other cover by the time that the Doctor began sluggishly moving to do the same. He almost didn't make it. Pete grabbed him and yanked him to the carpet just before the portal erupted with a torrential spray of acrid, slimy, colorful goo. An angry metallic screeching succeeded this outburst, before the entire orb vanished.

"Everyone alright?" Pete called, peering around the Doctor to the others. A chorus of affirmative noises followed. Then the goo started to melt through the walls.

"Don't touch it!" he yelped, yanking the Doctor further under the thick table. The goop continued to chew through any surface it contacted, but seemed slowed considerably by the carpet and table.

"Interesting, must be a Suirel-based lifeform. Seems to cut through organic matter much faster than synthetic materials." the Doctor mumbled, trying to shake the fog from his head.

"Great, now how do we get rid of it?" one of the other employees asked, sidling away from the melting edge of the table.

"It's reacting with the basic Ph of the walls and anything else with a higher Ph than it."

"And!?" Pete demanded, kicking off his shoe, a small drop of liquid burning through the material.

 _Think, think, have to think. Thinking what? Fuzzy, everything's so fuzzy. Suirel-based… Focus!_ "More base…" he muttered, thinking the last part aloud.

"You're saying we just need to dilute it!" the same employee shouted, scrambling away from the spot just behind them, dripping with acidic goo, "But what with? We're trapped."

"The sprinkler system could flood the room with enough neutral liquid." Pete ventured. "But we'd have to set it off somehow. I'm surprised it hasn't gone off already."

"I've got it!" another employee called, taking off his shoe and prepping himself. He darted out from under the protection of the table for a split second, aimed for the nearest fire sprinkler, and let his improvised projectile fly. He was rewarded by the sound of synchronized fire suppression systems all spraying their contents down at once. Within minutes, the room was covered in a thick miasma of muddled water, the bits of goop that hadn't properly mixed yet popping and sizzling as they touched the expanding pools.

Everyone stood up, ducking out of the scanty cover they'd sheltered under, sloshing through the hot, almost scalding liquid standing inch-deep across the room. Pushing out from under the ruined remains of the desk, the Doctor clambered to his feet, surveying the wreckage of the meeting room with considerable deliberation.

"Could have been worse, I suppose." Pete commented grimly, shaking his head as he saw the melted puddle of a chair he'd been sitting in not three minutes ago. He sighed. "We'll need to get Banks in here to assess the damage. Doctor, is there anything in this stuff we need to be worried about?"

"Doctor?"  
He jerked his head up, staring at Pete blankly for a second, processing the words with his gestures, the context of the room. "No. Yes. Sorry. It's…" he stopped, looking around at the muddled mass as if it might jolt the words free. "It's… allergic, most humans are allergic." he finally managed, "You'll want to monitor the staff for any reactions. Tends to react badly with Earth's organic makeup, too. I'd keep it out of the landfill if I were you."

"Right, okay, everyone, check in out front and report for a decontamination cycle before you do anything else. Work in pairs until further notice. And someone seal this place off before one of the interns gets stuck in this mess. Again." Pete ordered, doing a quick headcount as everyone filed out. He stopped the Doctor before he could leave, grabbing the Time Lord by the shoulder. Which was unusual. Pete was usually fairly distant where he was concerned, both adopting a rather reserved respect for the other, which extended to staying out of each other's way, and the Doctor wasn't sure he'd ever even shaken the man's hand, let alone this.

He tensed at the contact, and Pete quickly put his hand down, clearing his throat and saying in a low voice, "Look, Doctor, I know Rose is fond of you, but—"

He was expecting a telling off. _Quite right, I suppose. Cut that one a bit close._

"You've got about as much sense as that poor sod in planning who tripped lockdown earlier this week. I can't be following you around to make sure you're not passing out or puking up coffee—is that the only thing you've even had today? Point is, you're no good to us here like this. Besides, Rose would kill me if you melted on the job or somethin'. Just… go home and have Jackie keep an eye on you for the rest of the day."

The prospect of being fawned over, or, more likely, harangued by Jackie Tyler was not something he relished by any means, at any time. _But_ , he wasn't really in any position to argue. Hadn't been, in fact, for a long while now. He would, despite Pete's statements to the contrary, be of some use here, but he would be a liability too. So, he agreed, albeit slowly and with great reservations on the matter. It was enough for Pete though, who, after calling a cab, let him go.


	5. Chapter 5

"There now. Tuck in. I've said it once and I'll say it again, 'thin as a rail' I said, but it never stopped you now, did it? Well, go on and try to eat at least, won't you, Doctor?" Jackie prattled on, cajoling and domineering all at once as she bustled about the room, setting out the—largely store bought—dinner and tidying up.

The Doctor wasn't particularly hungry, but he wasn't about to tell Jackie that. He was too tired to even argue with her anymore. Too tired to care. So he swallowed a few mouthfuls, the food dry and bland, but, thankfully, _not_ Jackie's own cooking, and longed for the days when he used to be able to go for weeks at a time without sleep. Five measly days had done him in now. Had it been five days since he'd actually slept? He tried to keep account of it in his head, but between the endless waking hours and the muddled minutes of rest in-between, he couldn't quite be sure. _Must be at least that long_ , he thought, rubbing his eyes listlessly around a mouthful of boiled potato.

He must have sat there for a long while, though to his mind it was only a few short moments, as Jackie was suddenly there, sweeping away his plate as she continued henpecking, bemoaning the quantity of food left untouched and his utter disregard for her work or conversation. This was, of course, true, as he had no idea what she was talking about, but that did little to help matters. She stopped long enough to put the jar of marmalade within reach, looking a bit concerned again, just for a moment, before continuing her wordy cleanup of the kitchen. He considered the jar for a while, but didn't touch it. Even marmalade had lost its appeal.

"That's it, up you get." he vaguely heard Jackie say, just before she pulled him up from his seat. He didn't resist, didn't know what she was doing, but couldn't care enough to wonder about it. Instead he remained passive and compliant, shuffling his feet along as she led him out of the kitchen and through the house. Before he knew it, he was being tucked in, soft pillows and warm blankets suspending him in a cocoon of silent comfort. His eyes closed, and his mind wandered, barely tethered to consciousness but not quite asleep. It would have been pleasant, but with drifting thoughts it was not long before they settled on the painful events of his past, as they did more often than he'd like.

 _Alone, so alone. Now. Before. After. The Time Lords. His planet. His companions. Rose. All gone. Time was ceaselessly turning but always sweeping uncomfortable, lonely change from one moment to the next. It was truly the one constant in the neverending whirl of time: that nothing would stay as it was forever. Not even time itself. Not even him, not anymore. But somehow everything would loop around, tumbling together and splitting apart again interminably, but always, eventually, for some reason, he was… alone._ Yet even as he drifted, cold, caught in the swells of bitter ruminations, warmth began to seep into him, a soft reassurance flitting around the edges of his consciousness, like the essence of the TARDIS had for oh so long, a gentle presence to push away the edge of that ever-encroaching isolation. It soothed his troubled thoughts, calmed their aching wandering, familiar as it was, and he felt a tightness he didn't know he'd had loosen. He was fading, fading fast, the light contact somehow quietly brushing aside whatever mental barriers had kept him from sleep. He was so very tired… That thought was the last he had as the echo on the edge of his thoughts eased him, slowly sang him, into the blissful peace of dreamless, painless sleep.

When he finally awoke, it was dark in the room, dark, and… and definitely not the living room. He vaguely remembered Jackie leading him, well, somewhere, but he hadn't realized that she'd tucked him up in Rose's room. He rolled over, or, he tried to, anyway, the bedclothes tight around him. But that wasn't the only thing keeping him pinned. Slowly, brain kicking into gear like an old sputtering diesel engine, he turned onto his back, immediately feeling something shift beside him, pulling… pulling back? Still wrestling with the blankets, he was having a difficult time flipping over to see what was going on beside him. But, it seemed, he didn't have to, as the sheets suddenly loosened around him and he was able to get a better look at what, who—but then he knew.

"Doctor?" Rose mumbled groggily, pulling the covers free from around him, "Sorry, mum tucks people in like sardine tins."

"Rose." he breathed hoarsely, relief flooding in as surprise quickly faded.

"Mmm." she agreed, smiling a little.

He struggled for a moment to count the days, checking his math to be sure. "You aren't supposed to be here." She raised an eyebrow at that, and he quickly clarified, "Home, I mean. Not right now, anyway. You're supposed to be at Torchwood."

"Yeah, well, they didn't need me there." the implicit, unspoken, _you did,_ in her soft gaze surprised him. even as it coaxed a small smile, unbidden, to his lips, and she continued, "I got home last night and found you half-passed-out in here. Mum said you were having a rough time of it."

He didn't respond, and she didn't press him. Instead, she reached out for his hand, resting her head against his shoulder as he idly brushed his thumb across her palm in small circles.

"Didn't seem to have any trouble falling asleep from what I saw." Rose remarked after a while of companionable silence.

" _Well_ ," he said, shifting uncomfortably, "I didn't have…" he swallowed and couldn't quite finish the sentence. Some things didn't change.

"Trust you to wake up at some awful hour like this though." Rose sighed, changing the subject subtly just as her action turned to a yawn, and she tightened her grip on his arm.

"What time is it?"

She opened a single eye to look at him, a small smile playing at her lips. "What, _Time Lord,_ having a bit of trouble?" she asked teasingly. Before he could protest, she closed her eyes again, stifling another yawn, and answered him, "'s about four now. Just couldn't let me catch up on my sleep, could you?"

"Sorry. I'll just… I'll go. I'm good anyway. Fine, in fact." he replied, struggling to prop himself up.

"Don't be daft. No you're not, and you know that's not what I meant." she said, half-laughing through the words. As it faded, her tone shifted, earnest now with just the barest hint of challenge to it, "You haven't got enough sleep yet either. Not if you haven't laid down for a proper kip since I left."

He didn't have words for that anymore than he'd had a response for why he hadn't been sleeping, at least, not ones that would stop her gentle worrying and still be true. And he didn't want to lie to her. _He_ yawned this time. He was still very tired after all… Leaning his head against hers, he stared up at the ceiling, waiting for slumber to come once more.

In the silence, the Doctor kept still as he could, trying not to disturb his very sleepy Rose. From her steady, slow breathing, he thought that she might have almost dozed off again. So he nearly didn't catch it when she mumbled into his sleeve, "I missed you too."

Those four little words, so simple, so aware of all he'd left unsaid, made the back of his throat close up for a moment, and he had to swallow several times before he could croak anything out. But even as he drew in a breath to say something, he found he couldn't think of any words that wouldn't be flippant or trite. Instead, he turned slightly and curled his free arm around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as he drew her closer to him. He could feel her smile against him, and, as he closed his eyes and sleep washed over him, he knew there might be other sleepless nights where he was all alone. But lying here now, warm and drowsy, with Rose by his side, he also knew that they would be worth it.


End file.
